


Why Don't You Stay?

by Thelonelycoast



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Angst, Harry and Louis are broken up, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulative Harry, Oral Sex, Past Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Revelations, Romance, Snowballing, Threesome - M/M/M, the first half will make you cry and the second half will make you orgasm, thigh fucking, this was kind of cathartic for me to write, zayn really likes the taste of louis' cum?, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelonelycoast/pseuds/Thelonelycoast
Summary: Zayn shows up at Louis' house one night unexpectedly after Harry and Louis have broken up.  Revelations, angst and sex ensue. Can their one night stand turn into something more?





	Why Don't You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are parts of this that come off as Harry-bashing and Harry being manipulative, but this fiction and in no way reflects my feelings about real life Harry. It's just something I've been wanting to write because I always loved the Zouis dynamic and was gutted when Zayn left and he and Louis had a twitter feud. It's also kind of cathartic at the moment because I don't like the way Harry's image is being presented in his promo and because I miss Zayn and Louis and...yeh. 
> 
> Title is from the song "We've Got Tonight" by Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band; you can listen on youtube [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AJ4mRPX1SQ)
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely and appreciated. My Tumblr is [peachbottomprince](http://peachbottomprince.tumblr.com) if you want to message me. x

**Why Don’t You Stay?**

_“I know it’s late. I know you’re weary. I know your plans don’t include me. Still, here we are. Both of us lonely, longing for shelter from all that we see. Why should we worry? No one will care. Look at the stars, so far away. We’ve got tonight; who needs tomorrow? We’ve got tonight babe, why don’t you stay?”_ \- **Bob Seger, We’ve Got Tonight**

 _“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool.”_ \- **Lester Bangs, Almost Famous (2000)**

# 

Louis was back sleeping in his childhood bed. It was fine during the day - he’d been helping to take care of his younger siblings and they were enough to keep him distracted and fill some of the emptiness. But when he laid down at night, the old loneliness curled up in the pit of his gut, like a fox in its winter den. Louis felt small - smaller than he’d ever felt.

When his mobile buzzed on the bedside table near midnight, he almost didn’t answer. He figured it was Calvin or Luke or Stan checking up on him. He was happy to have friends like them - but he could see through them - they were treating him like he was on suicide watch ever since his mum, since Harry...

“I’m not going to off myself, okay?” Louis answered in a huff.

“Louis?” a soft, out of breath voice asked.

Louis took several moments to place the voice, during which his heart skipped a beat. Not Harry. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting tears. “Zayn?”

“All right?” Zayn’s voice cracked.

“You sound -” _Broken. Tired. Sad_. Louis’ protective instincts kicked in. “Where are you, love?”

“Bradford. I had dinner at my mum and dad’s. I’ve just been sitting out here on the back porch thinking about the old days. Gigi and I....we’re over.”

“Are you...okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn blurted out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when your mum died. I should have been. Everything was just so weird with Harry, but - no, that’s an excuse - I should’ve swallowed my pride. And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Louis choked, his throat suffused with emotion. He’d gotten better at controlling the crying jags, but there was something about how unexpected it was and how good it felt to hear Zayn’s voice after all this time and how goddamn lonely he was.

“Are you crying?” Zayn ventured.

“No,” Louis sniffled.

“Good, me either,” Zayn’s watery reply came. They both laughed - the laughter of shared misery.

When it ended, a silence hung between them - all the things left unsaid piling up like the snow in Louis’ back garden. Louis could hear Zayn’s breathing on the other end of the line and he found himself desperately clinging to its even cadence, terrified that it would stop, that the call would end, that he would wake up and it could all be a dream.

Louis and Zayn had shared something that Louis didn’t share with his friends at home - not just stardom, not just traveling the world, but a special kind of intimacy that came with living out of suitcases and cramming together in bus bunks and hotel beds, clutching each other because they missed home and their families so much. In some ways, Zayn was one of the only people in the world who understand what it was like to be him.

“I miss you,” Zayn said softly. “So goddamn much.”

Louis took a deep, shuddering breath. “I miss you too.”

“And you and Harry are -”

“No longer ‘me and Harry’,” Louis replied softly.

Zayn’s sharp intake of breath told Louis everything he needed to know. He’d thought Zayn would have heard through the grapevine - they still had mutual acquaintances after all - but Zayn had always had his ways of disappearing, of shutting the world out when he needed to. Louis waited for the awkward apology or condolences - nobody knew how to act around him after it happened - but it never came.

“Can I come see you?” Zayn asked instead. His voice was so raw, so vulnerable, Louis felt flattened beneath it. All the anger at Zayn leaving, at him not being there, escaped Louis like helium from a punctured balloon.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be okay. I’m back in Donny, at me mum’s.”

Zayn’s voice was barely a whisper. “I can be there in an hour.”

“I’ll - I’ll put the light on.”

“Okay.” They both hung up without saying goodbye.

Louis went downstairs and unlocked the front door. He sat on the front stoop. It took him three tries to light his cigarette his hands were shaking so badly. He kept expecting a crazed fan to pop out from behind a bush, but the street was silent and deserted. The parked cars were covered in snow like sheets draped over furniture in a holiday house during the off-season. Louis jiggled his leg to keep warm. He looked up at the white face of the moon - glacial and faraway. He felt that smallness again - how inconsequential his own life was in the vast expanse of the universe.

After his second cigarette, he went back inside, tiptoeing so he wouldn’t wake Dan and the kids. In the loo, he washed the nicotine from his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. He’d been avoiding his reflection, too terrified of what he would see there. Not the tiredness or depression - those were old familiar friends by now - but the look like he’d been rent wide open. Like a snail without a shell.

Predictably, he looked awful - blue circles under his eyes, four days worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin, greasy unwashed hair flopping in his eyes, his week old top streaked with a tea stain. He had an hour until Zayn arrived and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep still until then.

He wondered if he was insane letting Zayn back into his life. Louis had always been fiercely loyal - unlike some of the others in the band, who’d felt the siren’s lure of Hollywood so strongly - Louis was still close to his family, still had the same childhood friends and wasn’t drawn in by the glitz and glamour because he saw them for what they were - _fake_. But once, he was crossed by someone, he wasn’t likely to make the same mistake twice. Harry being the only exception - the mistake he continually made - even when it became clear they were growing in different directions, like a tree’s trunk bisected in two by a fence.

Louis got out a razor and shaved his face over the sink - only knicking himself twice in the process - and then hopped in the shower to wash off a week’s worth of depression.

Back in his room, he changed into clean joggers and a jumper. He gathered up the mugs crowding his bedside table and carried them down to the kitchen. He emptied his ashtray into the bin. He put an old pizza box into recycling. He stripped his sheets and put on new ones. He sprayed some of his cologne and cracked a window, letting the cold air wash away the sour scent of his sweat and funk. He thought about letting himself go back through old photos of Zayn in his mobile, but was too afraid he’d come across one of Harry he hadn’t deleted.

When he was done, Louis laid down on his side and stared at the wall. Surprisingly, as keyed up as he was, he fell asleep. He jerked awake when he heard the door downstairs open and snick closed again, the click of the tumblers as Zayn locked it behind himself. He didn’t move when he heard Zayn’s soft footsteps coming up the stairs. He didn’t turn when his bedroom door opened and he heard Zayn drop his bag with a muffled thud on the carpet. Or when Zayn kicked off his shoes and slung his leather coat on Louis’ desk chair.

He didn’t react until Zayn silently sank onto the bed behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around Louis’ midsection. Louis melted back into him. It had been so long since he’d had bodily contact with another person. He’d thought about going on Grindr, or having a random hookup with a bloke from a pub, but the idea of bringing them back to his mum’s house, back to where his little siblings slept, to the place where he’d sunk so low was unthinkable. The idea of how empty and wanting a random encounter with a stranger would leave him, how it would pale to what he’d had with Harry, always turned him off of it. He was - as ever - an all or nothing kind of guy.

Besides his own family, Louis hadn’t been touched or held in months and it felt like a soothing balm on a sunburn he hadn’t known he’d had. Zayn nuzzled his nose into the valley of Louis’ neck and inhaled deeply. “You smell good,” he said, voice husky, bedroom soft.

Tears spilled down Louis’ face, soaked into the collar of his jumper. “I showered.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean _you_ \- your skin,” Zayn breathed deeply again. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Why now?” Louis couldn’t help asking. _Why not when his mum died? Why not when he and Harry split? Why not when he was publicly a dad to a baby that wasn’t his? Why not when his world was imploding_? “Because of Gigi?”

“I thought - I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. After... _everything_...”

“Well,” Louis sobbed. “You were wrong.” Louis finally rolled over toward Zayn, burying his tear-stained face into the other boy’s t-shirt. Zayn rubbed circles up and down Louis’ back.

“Let me make it up to you. Let me take care of you.” Zayn kissed Louis’ forehead.

“I’m scared.” _Scared to get close to anyone. Scared to be left again. Scared to give myself over to someone. Scared you’ll run._

“I know I’m not what you want. I know I’m not him, but I - .”

“I don’t need you to be. That’s not -” Louis sat up, looking at Zayn’s face for the first time. It struck him like an arrow through his heart. Zayn was all angles, skin stretched thin over his bones like canvas over a frame. “Are you eating?” Louis found himself asking, even though it wasn’t what he meant to say at all.

“Are you?” Zayn countered, a touch defensively.

“Touche.”

“I didn’t come here just to sleep with you, if that’s what you were thinking...”

“Oh?”

“We can just lie here if you want. I was just lonely and thought...thought that you might be too,” Zayn shrugged.

“So you do want something from me? I should have known,” Louis shook his head.

“Louis, come on. I just want you to be happy. To know you aren’t alone.”

“And in the morning? When you leave? When you fuck back off to wherever it is you go when you can’t handle things?”

Zayn winced. “That’s fair. Punch me if it’ll make you feel better. I don’t care. I deserve it. But Lou, this isn’t easy for me either. Shit,” Zayn raked a hand back through his hair. Tears rain unsteadily down his face, catching in his stubble. “He really fucked us up, huh?”

“Who?” Louis demanded, rankled.

“Nothing...no one.” Zayn scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Don’t you dare blame this on Harry.”

“Do you ever wonder how things would have turned out if we hadn’t slept together?” Zayn asked softly.

“No, but I do wonder what it would have been like if you hadn’t left after,” Louis bit off. He hadn’t realized he was holding so much anger in until he was jamming his finger into the bruise.

Zayn stood up, tearing at his hair. “I left because I was in love with you, you idiot!”

Louis stared at him, unable to make sense of what he was saying. “What?”

“Since Xfactor. You were so bloody besotted with Harry, you never even noticed. But Harry did. He was always instigating. You know how he could be. He knew I had a crush on you and he - he teased me about it. Told me all this shit about the sounds you made in bed and what you looked like with your clothes off. It was so fucked up. But I thought - you know - it was just one of his games - it was just his way. And I knew you loved him - were _in love_ with him - I never thought you would agree to - with _me_ \- ”

“What?” Louis repeated again, trying to wrap his mind around it. Trying to reframe the last few months, few years of his life. It was like he’d skipped over a crucial scene of a movie or a book - the one that revealed the killer or some plot twist that changed everything.

“After - I - I couldn’t be around you. It was worse because I knew - I _knew_ what it was like to have you - and that I _couldn’t_ have you again, not the way I wanted. It was unbearable. And Harry made sure to remind me of my place. And of _his_.”

Zayn was shaking, pacing the floor and Louis stood and pushed him down to the bed. It was harder than he meant to - more of a shove - and Zayn bounced on the mattress. His eyes went wide with shock. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Louis demanded.

Zayn hung his head, ashamed. “Who would you have believed?” Louis felt Zayn’s words like a slap. He would have thought Zayn was trying to come between them - it felt like the whole world was trying to come between them then - their management and record label and the media and the constant parade of aspiring actresses and models that bearded for them. He’d never have guessed that the thing that would end them would end up being them.

Harry was so insecure when they first met - about his voice, about his looks, about his place in the band, about criticism on the Internet. He just wanted people to like him and it was heartbreaking to watch. Louis had showered Harry with affection, with compliments and praise, had built Harry’s confidence up so high Harry started to think he was too good for Louis. Too good for the band. He started listening to solo rumors, to the press, to the Azoffs. Starting believing he was a star. He was too good for a boy band, too good for his old, non-famous friends and certainly too good ‘for a closeted queen’ like Louis.

In the beginning, Harry had been so soft, so innocent, so inexperienced - that Louis had felt like a monster for defiling him - but now Louis wondered if it wasn’t all an act. He’d teased Louis - walking around their bedroom in the Xfactor house without a stitch of clothing, making off-colour jokes about Louis’ sexuality, dry-humping him and leaving him with blue-balls, texting him nudes, flirting with Louis and then flirting with someone else in front of him, getting jealous when Louis showed anyone else but him attention. Harry had soaked up Louis’ love like a cat in a patch of sunshine and when he’d had his fill, he’d walked away and Louis was left shining a spotlight on an empty patch of floor.

Louis thought of that night in Columbus - how quickly it had all escalated - Zayn offering Harry a bite of his candy thong on stage like Eve with the apple in the garden of Eden - and later that night when Harry had pushed Zayn to his knees in front of Louis. The dirty talk Louis now recognized as the taunts they were. “ _Look how hard he is for you. He’s pretty big. Do you think you could take it all? I can.”_

“Shit, Zayn, I - I had no idea.” Louis knew Harry was jealous of the time he spent with Zayn - that he would get stroppy whenever Louis and Zayn smoked or hung out together without him - even when Louis was trying to help Zayn through his eating disorder, which no one else in the band knew about. Louis remembered fights that ended with him on his knees, begging and pleading Harry to stay, that there was nothing between him and Zayn. _That he only loved Harry. Only had eyes for Harry. Only wanted to fuck Harry. And be fucked by Harry._

“I know. I don’t - I don’t blame you. And if you want me to go, I’ll go. This was a stupid idea anyway...” Zayn motioned to stand, but Louis grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down to bed. Zayn’s wrist was so thin, so delicately-boned, it was like cupping a sparrow in his palm. Louis could crush it with one squeeze. But he didn’t want pain - he’d had enough of it - what he wanted, what he _needed_ was a little tenderness. He let Zayn’s wrist go.

“If you want to leave, _leave_. I won’t keep you.” _And I don’t beg anymore_ , he thought to himself.

“I don’t want to leave,” Zayn said softly, gold eyes wavering with tears.

“I know you’re not in the habit of making promises, and I’m not asking you to, but...will you be gentle with me?”

Zayn’s expression softened. He cupped Louis’ face in his palms. Louis eyes’ fluttered shut, unable to bear the longing in Zayn’s amber eyes, and Zayn kissed his closed eyelids. Then his lips moved to Louis’ cheek, his chin, the corner of his mouth. His kisses were light, like the brush of moth’s wings and it was both too much and not enough. Louis trembled, mouth falling open, tears running down his face.

“You’re so lovely, Lou. You’re so lovely and you don’t even know it.” Zayn lowered Louis’ shoulders back to the bed, rucked his jumper up to his collarbones. “You have such a big heart,” Zayn said, kissing the skin under Louis’ left nipple over his heart. “You take care of everyone. Let me take care of you for once.” Louis shivered, goosebumps rising on his skin. Zayn looked so earnest and open and despite how tired and thin he looked, he was still so beautiful, so radiant.

Louis gripped Zayn’s forearms. “Will you stay for breakfast tomorrow? I’m sure the girls would love to see you.” Louis didn’t say that it wasn’t _just_ the girls. That he couldn’t bear to wake up and find the bed empty beside him, Zayn’s warmth melted away like the snow under the morning sun. That if they did this, Zayn couldn’t run because it would break him.

“I’ll stay as long as you need,” Zayn said, kissing Louis’ collarbone, his Adam’s apple, his shower-damp hair.

“Let’s get this off,” Zayn tugged Louis’ jumper over his head, grinning at him goofily when it was discarded on the floor.

“What?” Louis demanded, self-consciously.

“Your hair is all - ” Zayn made a gesture indicating bird-nest and patted Louis' hair down, still grinning.

Louis touched the corner of Zayn’s smiling mouth. “I missed your smile.”

Zayn leaned down and kissed him - softly at first, hesitantly - but then Louis responded like he was trying to suck the poison out of a snake bite. He canted his hips up off the bed, grinding his hardness into Zayn’s sharp hip. Louis had forgotten how much he _needed_ , _craved_ physical affection. Heat burned through his veins like a brush fire - all thoughts of gentleness gone - his thirst was unquenchable. Zayn gasped into Louis’ open mouth, settled his hands on Louis’ narrow waist so gently it was like he was holding a delicate champagne flute. Louis bit him, nipped at Zayn’s throat and tugged his hair until Zayn growled.

“I thought we were being gentle,” he panted.

“ _You_ are. I want to hurt you a little,” Louis said, pinching Zayn’s nipple through his shirt as he pulled his mouth in for another bruising kiss.

“Okay,” Zayn acquiesced, finding he wanted it to hurt, needed it to hurt as much as Louis did. It felt like retribution, like his punishment for leaving. And it was making his dick awfully hard too.

They broke apart momentarily, out of breath, laughing when in their joint frenzy to pull Zayn’s shirt over his head, it got stuck on his ears. And then they weren’t laughing as Louis rolled them over, so he was on top, grinding down into Zayn.

“I want to fuck you,” Louis said, punctuating his words with a thrust that made Zayn’s hip-bone ache.

“I’ve never - no one’s ever done that - to _me_ ,” Zayn admitted, biting his lip. The time before - the threesome with Harry - Zayn had fucked Louis and then Louis had fucked Harry, while Zayn watched beneath hooded eyes, lazily stroking himself. Louis knew Zayn was bisexual - that he’d had just as many encounters with boys as the publicized ones he had with women - so he’d never imagined Zayn was a virgin in that way.

Louis stopped moving. “Are you - is that _okay_? If not, you could do me. I don’t want to _really_ hurt you.”

“Of course. I want it - with _you_. I really, really want it,” Zayn said bashfully. Louis leaned down and took Zayn’s mouth roughly, panting between kisses. Zayn ran his hands down Louis’ back, over his soft skin - which provided such a beautiful contrast to Zayn’s own olive skin - like gold and bronze melding together. Zayn walked his fingers down the bumps of Louis’ spine like it was an instrument he were trying to play. Louis arched his back and moaned. Zayn moved his face close to Louis’ and whispered, “I want to feel you inside me - not just tonight. I want to feel it tomorrow, when we’re eating breakfast with your family. I want to feel you every time I take a step.”

Louis shuddered, buried his face in Zayn’s neck. Said in a whisper, “Were you saving it for me?”

Zayn changed the subject. “Can I suck you?”

“Yeah,” Louis’ voice was shaky with lust and there was a large wet spot forming on his joggers. Zayn palmed him for a few seconds - enjoying the delicious corresponding flush that spread over Louis’ face and chest - like a drop of wine in a glass of milk. A long strand of precum pulled away when Zayn dragged the joggers down off of Louis’ hips. Louis’ inner thighs were wet with the stuff. It made Zayn’s mouth water.

“Shit, I forgot how much you leak,” Zayn said admiringly, loving how Louis’ skin glistened in the moonlight coming in from the window. Louis blushed. He’d always felt self-conscious about it. “You’re so wet for me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

Zayn didn’t waste any time dropping his head between Louis’ legs. He licked the precum from his thighs, before moving on to his dick, thumbing back his foreskin to reveal his slick, red cock-head. “I love your skin here,” Zayn said, running his tongue under Louis’ foreskin. Zayn was circumcised and Louis felt slightly self-conscious about the difference between them, but Zayn had a way of making Louis feel so sexy, of making his insecurities seem like his strengths. Zayn drew Louis’ foreskin back and forth a few times, mesmerized by Louis’ dick head disappearing and reappearing in his fist. “Is it sensitive?”

“Ye-yeah,” Louis panted, thighs trembling, when Zayn’s tongue swirled around his exposed head. He had a million more nerve endings than a cut guy and it could make blow jobs really _intense_.

Zayn sucked around Louis’ head and gently palmed his balls, before sliding his mouth down over Louis’ shaft. Louis groaned, sliding his hands into Zayn’s dark hair and giving it a tug.

“When’s the last time you sucked a dick?” Louis asked, pushing more of his cock into Zayn’s throat. Zayn took it.

He pulled back, eyes glassy and lips swollen and red. “Yours,” he replied, before plunging back down.

“Shit!” Louis cursed. He couldn’t believe that Zayn hadn’t had sex with another guy since him and Harry. The thought that he’d been saving up for this particular blowjob was so hot Louis’ mind nearly combusted.

Louis realized he was going to cum really, really quickly. Embarrassingly so. “Shit, Zayn I’m sorry. I’m gonna -”

Zayn pulled back, skinning Louis for the final strokes and taking Louis’ cum onto his tongue. He licked his lips and lapped up the spare drops that fell onto Louis’ skin, sucking Louis’ oversensitive head a few times to make sure he got everything.

“You’re so fucking delicious,” Zayn moaned, gently massaging the last of the cum from Louis’ balls. “You taste so good.” Zayn’s hand moved down to adjust himself where he was straining against his own joggers. Louis’ eyes were drooping and he looked totally blissed out as he fumbled to open his bedside drawer. He tossed a tube of lube at Zayn.

“Could you um...do you think you could thigh-fuck me?”

Zayn shivered. “Yeah, yeah, I could do that,” he said hungrily. He stood up and stripped off his pants and generously lubed himself and Louis’ thighs. “Lay on your side,” Zayn rolled Louis’ over and slide his dick in the tight space Louis’ pressed thighs created. The drag of Zayn’s dick over Louis’ balls and spent cock had Louis’ rapidly reinflating.

“Unf, you feel so fucking good,” Zayn gripped Louis’ hips tightly, rutting back and forth between his thighs. It was slick and pornographically wet-sounding in the otherwise silent night. Louis looked down at Zayn’s red cock head appearing and disappearing between his clenched thighs, fucking along the furrow of his balls and it looked so hot, he reached for his cock again. He was surprised to find - for the first time in months - that Harry was the furthest thing from his mind.

There was no comparing them - they had completely different body shapes - Zayn, thin and rangy where Harry was strong and muscled, Harry - horse-cocked and uncut and Zayn’s long and thin and so red and exposed at his cut tip.

And the way Zayn fucked Louis - like someone parched in the desert - drinking and swallowing him up in desperation. It wasn’t long before Louis spurted into his cupped palm and Zayn followed closely after, cum dripping down Louis’ thighs and over his bedspread.

“Give me your hand.” Zayn licked the pool of cum from Louis’ palm and then drew him into a kiss, pushing Louis’ own cum into his mouth with his tongue.

Louis shivered. “I’ve just been debauched in my childhood bed,” he laughed, stomach muscles aching from clenching his abdomen so tightly.

“Your turn to debauch me,” Zayn teased. They were both spent so they just laid on the bed for a while kissing until they’d both plumped back up into hardness.

“I love your little nipples,” Zayn said, teasing one of Louis’ rose colored buds between his teeth into a point. “They drive me insane.” His tongue trailed to the other one, giving it a similar treatment before trailing his tongue down Louis’ sternum to his navel.

“Even your bellybutton is sexy.”

“You talk a lot,” Louis moaned, but he was secretly pleased by all the praise.

“Which is to say nothing of your arse.” Zayn’s hands slid around Louis, giving his plump cheeks a squeeze.

“Will you fuck me now? Please, I want you so bad, Louis,” Zayn begged, eyes dark and pupils blown wide. “If I don’t have you in me soon, I’ll melt.”

“Can’t have that,” Louis smiled lazily. He squirted some lube into his palm and probed at Zayn’s rosebud with his index finger, before breaching him.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah,” Zayn body clenched down hard at the intrusion.

“Just relax. You’re so tight, sweetheart.” Louis kissed Zayn again, lazily, while he fingered his hole. Zayn was so lost in the heat of Louis’ mouth, he barely noticed when Louis slid in a second finger.

“Can you take three you think, love?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn breathed hurriedly, eager to get more of Louis into him.

“Can’t believe I’ll be your first,” Louis breathed, kissing Zayn’s neck and hair. “I’m so lucky. Can’t wait to feel you. You’re so hot inside.”

Zayn nearly shouted when the bundle of Louis’ fingers stroked over his prostate. Electricity branched up into his belly, pulled his balls up tight to his body. _So **this** is why people did this._

“Fuck me. Please. Louis. Fuck me.” Zayn’s voice was ragged, his breathing uneven, dark hair disheveled and wet with sweat at his temples. His cock lay thick and heavy against his belly. His body was like a flower, opening up at Louis’ touch.

Louis smirked. “Since you asked nicely.” Louis pulled his fingers out and Zayn groaned at their loss. But then felt the blunt tip of Louis’ head push past his rim and cried out. Louis covered his mouth. “Keep it down. You’ll wake my sisters.”

Zayn drew Louis’ fingers into his mouth and suckled them as Louis pushed himself into Zayn, inch by excruciating inch. He stopped when he bottomed out, rubbing Zayn’s tummy. “Relax love. Take a few deep breathes.” Zayn did what he was told and the pain gave way to uncomfortable fullness.

“How does it feel?”

“Full,” Zayn said.

Louis’ biceps were straining with the effort of holding himself up. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“You can...yeah, now.” Louis began a gentle rock, pulling back and then snapping his hips forward in a way that made Zayn feel every inch of him. He had wickedly good hips and his rhythm was so good Zayn thought he should have been a drummer. When Zayn had watched Louis fuck Harry - he’d wondered what it would feel like to be in Harry’s place - to feel what he felt and now he knew.

Tingling electricity that started in his toes and traveled up through his whole body, the nearly unbearable pleasure of Louis hitting his spot over and over and over again. Louis was giving in every aspect of his life and sex was no exception. He was working hard to make it good for Zayn, sweat running down his face and chest and falling in droplets onto Zayn’s torso. He looked gorgeous - glistening and flushed - his tiny nipples pert and pink, mouth swollen and lax. Zayn’s fingers itched for a pencil and paper to draw Louis at the same time his eyes rolled back into his head.

Louis switched positions several times, angling Zayn’s legs, rolling his hips in tiny circles so that his cock dragged tantalizingly over Zayn’s prostate. _Had it been this good between him and Harry? How could Harry give **this** up?_

“You feel so good in me,” Zayn said. “You’re really good at this.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis said, leaning down to kiss Zayn. “I’ve always thought so.”

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t say stuff you don’t mean.”

Louis grabbed Zayn by the hips and hiked him up into his lap, pulling Zayn on and off his dick and using the strength of his thighs to fuck up into him. “I do mean it. You’re gorgeous. Even more so when you’re on my cock.”

Zayn grunted as Louis pulled almost completely out and thrust back in hard, so Zayn could feel the entire length of him. Louis pistoned a few more times and Zayn came without any warning - completely untouched - bearing down on Louis’ cock as he spurt all over the sheets and his thighs. Louis followed shortly after, giving a few rabbity thrusts before he grunted and spilled inside him. Zayn could feel the spreading warmth of Louis’ seed and didn’t want him to pull out. But Louis eventually did.

Zayn sighed at the emptiness. “It feels like I’m still full of you.”

Louis fucked his fingers into the cum he’d left in Zayn’s arse. “You are.”

“I’m almost mad I can’t eat myself out and it’s all going to waste.”

“I had no idea you were such a cumslut, Zayn,” Louis teased, nipping Zayn’s earlobe.

“Only for you,” Zayn said softly. And it was true - there was something intoxicating about Louis’ scent and taste - he’d never swallowed for other guys.

“I wonder what other hidden depths you have,” Louis said, still teasing Zayn’s arse with one finger, sending aftershocks jolting through Zayn’s oversensitized prostate.

“Was that - was I okay?” Zayn asked, unsurely, when Louis finally pulled his finger out and spooned Zayn, his soft sticky cock pressed to Zayn’s arse cheeks.

“Babe, I came three times. I’d cum again to prove how good you were, but I’m old. And exhausted,” Louis sighed, nuzzling Zayn’s shoulder. He traced a fingertip - tantalizingly light over Zayn’s arm, tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos. There was a blooming bruise where he’d sucked a love bite into the Bus 1 tattoo - _their_ tattoo - and Louis pressed his thumb into it now, making Zayn wince. “Was it okay for you?”

“Yeah - I’ve never cum like that - without touching it, I mean,” Zayn said shyly.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Louis smiled cheekily. “Also, you realize every time I wank from now on, I’m going to be getting off to that visual of you popping untouched?”

Zayn butted Louis’ shoulder with his face, “Shut up.” But secretly, he was pleased.

Louis’ pressed a kiss to Zayn’s forehead. “Let’s take a shower and change the sheets before we nod off.”

Zayn moaned - he was absolutely boneless and sated - and had no desire to move from his current position. Louis - surprisingly strong for his compact size - hoisted Zayn over one shoulder and slapped his arse. “Come on, lover boy.”

# 

Zayn was just falling asleep, clean and in borrowed sweats of Louis’ when the smaller boy shifted in his embrace. “I’m sorry too,” Louis said softly, into the darkness of his childhood bedroom.

“For what?”

“You were right. When you said I was an idiot not to see what was right in front of me. You’re so great, Zayn, and I’m sorry it took so long to realize it. And I’m sorry if - with Harry - if we - I took advantage of you. We should have talked more - before and after - about what it would mean for all of us and our friendship and the future of the band. I didn’t mean to treat you like an accessory to my relationship. I didn’t know why Harry kept pushing the threesome idea - I thought maybe - he’d worked out that I had a bit of crush on you. I never imagined he was toying with you. Or trying to hurt you.”

“You had a crush on me?” Zayn asked, surprised.

“Yeah. How could I not? I mean, I was so wrapped up in Harry, but we had our moments too, didn’t we?”

Zayn thought he had imagined them - those moments, stoned in the Mystery machine, Louis’ features softened in a haze of smoke - the air electric with the possibility.

“Yeah, we did,” Zayn nodded. “We really did.”

# 

After breakfast, Zayn went with Louis to walk his dog around the block. Hands tucked into their coat pockets, heads wreathed with their frozen exhalations, their boots crunched over the frozen snow. Zayn turned to Louis, wondering if the previous night had all been a dream. But Louis was reassuringly solid in the daytime in a way he hadn’t been in the night. In the dark, it seemed like he might slip out of Zayn’s arms like Peter Pan’s shadow, unstitched. But in the light of day, Louis looked older and tired, a bit rumpled, but very much like the Louis Zayn had known.

Zayn realized that this Louis - who approached everything a bit more cautiously - wasn’t the Louis he’d fallen in love with all those years ago. That had been Harry’s Louis. This Louis had had his heart broken. This version of him was healing and trying to find out who he was outside a relationship. There were a lot more moments of quiet and past hurts to navigate around, less of the crazy showing off he’d done to keep Harry’s attention. And that was okay.

Zayn wanted to get to know Louis all over again - because he seemed _worth knowing_ \- unlike a lot of the self-involved models Zayn had chosen to spend his time with. Louis was so strong - he’d weathered personal tragedy and disappointment - and still walked with his head up. He’d been all over the world and had several million in his bank accounts, but he still gave back to his town, donated to local charities, attended footie matches at his hometown stadium, helped to raise his younger siblings, walked his own dog. Zayn was always running from his problems - but he finally understood what it was that drew Harry to Louis - Louis was home. Spontaneous and fun, yes, but also responsible and dependable and kind and caring and smart and humble.

Harry had eventually felt pinned down by Louis’ weight, his gravity - had wanted freedom and flight - but Zayn had tried those things and found he wanted nothing more than someone to ground him. Somehow outside the false Hollywood veneer of glitz and glamor. Someone a little tarnished. Someone a lot like Louis.

“Do you think...would it be all right if I stayed a little longer?” Zayn asked, shoulder bumping Louis’ as they walked.

Louis loped an arm around Zayn’s waist. “You can stay as long as you like. You know that.”

“I don’t want to impose and I don’t know if I’m reading too much into last night or -”

“Zayn,” Louis stopped, putting a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m not being clear. I want you to stay. Please stay.”

“But are we - are we defining this? _Should_ we? I mean, I just got out of a relationship and you have about ten matching tattoos with Harry - but at the same time, the thought of being away from you right now, after having found you again, makes my throat want to close up -”

Louis chuckled. “Relax. Stay and we’ll take it slowly. We don’t have to define anything now. I mean, if it’s just fantastic sex and a cuddle you’re after, then I’m your man.”

“That’s not all you are to me,” Zayn said, lowering his eyes.

“I know,” Louis squeezed his hand. “Right now, this is really unexpected. Yesterday, I was some depressed loser who’d moved back home and lost the love of his life and had no career to speak of - ”

“Lou, that’s not -

“Let me finish. And now, I have to change the story I’m telling myself.”

“To?”

“To someone who managed to get lucky twice. And someone who’s also been a colossal idiot, sitting around feeling sorry for himself, when he has so much love around him.”

“Do you think you could...love me one day?” Zayn asked softly. When Louis took a beat too long to reply, Zayn rushed in, “You don’t have to answer. Sorry, that was a stupid question -”

“Zayn, I think it would be hard not to love you. Do you think...you could give me time to catch up?” He turned his body to full face Zayn, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear. “I want to get to know you...for the first time, again.”

Zayn rested his forehead on Louis’ coat lapel. “I thought I was going to leave your house with a black eye last night. I never imagined you’d end up kissing me.”

 “Stick around a while. There’s more where that came from.”

“I’d like that.”

The dog stopped, did a circle in the snow and squatted to relieve itself. Louis squeezed Zayn’s gloved fingers in his. He looked up at the white winter sky through the branches of a nearby tree - and though he felt dwarfed by its enormity - he felt right in his smallness. Like smallness was okay, was where he should be. A little life of kisses and cups of tea and morning breath and cold feet warming themselves on his shins sounded like just the small he was looking for. 

_Fin._

# 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a day and it's not betaed so there could be spelling/grammar errors - feel free to let me know! :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely and appreciated. My Tumblr is [peachbottomprince](http://peachbottomprince.tumblr.com) if you want to message me privately. x


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